Astrid did most of the child watching and cooking and cleaning. But Greta needed help with her jam and baking business, at least until after the baby was born. And whether Ivy wanted to or not, she’d resolved to stick it out for Greta’s sake.

As Ivy dropped the last of the salt blocks to the ground, a distressed bleating wafted her way. She hadn’t realized any cattle were out in the eastern pasture today, had seen the cowhands heading to the south at sunrise. But it was possible a few steers had wandered off, especially with how big the herd was these days.

She urged Poppy up an incline so she could get a better view of the surrounding pastureland. The swirl of dust obscured the view for a moment, but as it passed, she saw that several cattle were down a short way, close to the river. One of them appeared to be trapped in a bog.

The bogs were pesky areas that had to be checked almost daily. For this very reason.

Ivy started toward the strays. As she drew nearer, she could tell the bog was nearly dried up, but a calf had wandered in—probably to get away from biting flies, gnats, and mosquitoes. And the poor baby had gotten itself stuck almost near to its belly.

She breathed out a prayer of thankfulness that it was just a little critter instead of one of the heavy steers. Getting the big cattle out of the bogs was a difficult process with the need for chains and a team of horses. Even then, with all the pulling and hauling, the suction of the mud was so great that sometimes the cows died during the extraction.

Eyeing the situation, she grabbed her rope. She’d try digging him out on her own, but she might have to ride back to the ranch and get some help.

The calf cried out again, a pitiful sound.

“I’m a-comin’,” she called out to let the other cattle know she was there. Wouldn’t do any good to spook the rest of them into the bog. One trapped creature was enough.

She cinched the end of her rope to the pommel. Then making sure her horse was on firm footing, she hopped down and started toward the calf, loosening the rope as she went. At the edge of the bog, she paused, pulled off her boots, stockings, trousers, and split skirt, leaving herself attired in her underdrawers.

No sense in dirtying up more than she had to. She’d already made everyone mad enough the past couple of days with her bumbling efforts around the house. She didn’t need the womenfolk even madder for dragging in half the bog on her clothing.